


Marks

by Dorkangel



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Childhood Friends, Don't Get Excited, Friends to Enemies, Gen, Kidnapping, Pirates, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-17
Updated: 2014-06-17
Packaged: 2018-02-05 01:47:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1800949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorkangel/pseuds/Dorkangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some of the marks that Captain Jack Sparrow and Lord Cutler Beckett have left one each other, starting when they were children</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marks

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know. Headcanon?

Marks

Cutler and Jack stood together by the mast, watching the quiet sea as the men rushed past them, not speaking to them. They were too busy hiding their valuables, making the ship ready to return fire, if really necessary, or to make flight if the wind picked up. The chances of them getting away, however, were tiny.  
They were being approached, rather rapidly, by pirates, and there was nothing the cabin boy and the captain's son could do about it.  
The pirate ship - the 'Black Pearl' - was right next to them, about to board, and the captain had raised a flag of surrender. Cutler's father could afford to lose the little cargo they had left, and would rather survive this encounter.  
"Bye, Cut." whispered Jack, squeezing the other boy's hand. They were both twelve, but Jack Sparrow was dark, all dark hair and eyes and braids and dreadlocks, to Cutler Beckett's light, all blonde curls and blue eyes.  
"Whatcha mean, 'bye'?" the other boy whispered back. "You're going to be fine, Jack, and so am I."  
Jack shook his head, looking sick, and the beads in his hair jangled. Cutler heard the pirates board, their heavy footsteps and murmured chatter loud in the fearful silence that weighed upon the crew, and closed his eyes. Jack pulled him by his hand so that they were both standing, hidden, behind the mast.  
"Right," they heard a swaggering, rough voice call out. "Ye might think I'm after yer cargo, and that's a fair enough assumption. But I int, to put it simply." Cutler's eyes snapped open in surprise, but Jack gestured to him to stay quiet. "What I am after is Jack Teague."  
Jack went tense and no one moved. "Let me repeat meself. If Jack Teague is on this ship, and he is, he'd better come forth, else I'll be forced to start shooting."  
Cutler looked around, panicked. There was no one by the name of Jack Teague on this ship, this pirate was going to kill them-  
Jack dropped the other boy's hand and stepped out, raising his hands, terrified.  
"Ah," said the pirate, grinning coldly. "There ye are, Jacky boy. Come 'ere."  
Hesitantly, the young boy did, and the man's hands snapped out suddenly and dragged him forward by the scruff of his neck, pulling a pained cry from him.  
"Right lads," he growled. "We got the boy, we're off."  
With no further ceremony, the pirate strode away, pulling Jack roughly with him. Cutler saw the pirate bring the butt of his pistol down on the boy's head, knocking him to the floor, saw him order his sailors to the sails...  
And the two ships sailed away from each other as fast as they could, and Cutler Beckett didn't see his friend for another eight years.

*

Now twenty years old and an officer of the Royal Navy, Cutler Beckett wandered around the cells of his port in search of a fellow officer; the man had just brought in some prisoners and should be around there somewhere. As he looked, he absently glanced into the cells, eyes not really settling on anyone until he came to the last one in the row and...  
It couldn't be.  
But who else could it be? Who honestly else would wear that many beads and braids and dreadlocks, and have such dark hair and the eyes to match, although now accentuated by a black line of make up around them?  
"J-Jack?" he stammered tentatively, feeling that he was in some sort of awful dream, and the man sitting in the corner of the cell looked sharply up.  
"Ey? Do I know you, mate?"  
So it was him. The same man.  
"You did once. I'm Cutler, Cutler Beckett."  
Jack stared at him, jumping quickly to his feet. For a moment he studied the other man, then whistled softly through his teeth.  
"So you are... A Navy man now, are you?"  
Cutler nodded. "And you're a pirate."  
Jack didn't exactly respond, but a muscle somewhere to the left of his face jumped as he tried not to cringe, and he inclined his head in a kind of thoughtful acquiescence.  
"Jack-" started Beckett, and then stopped. Knowing they wouldn't have much time, he tried again. "What happened to you? Who was that man?"  
Jack collapsed heavily back to the floor and groaned. "My dad." he said eventually, staring at the ceiling. "I lived in Shipwreck cove 'til I was eleven, and then I ran away. Seen too many men hanged - or heard of 'em being hanged, at least - what I knew and cared about. Didn't want to be a pirate."  
Beckett realised suddenly what must have happened. "But then your father came along...?"  
"And took me back to Shipwreck cove, yeah, and I ended up a pirate anyhow."  
"You're not a pirate, Jack. You were kidnapped, I'm sure if we explain-"  
Jack laughed bitterly. "Nah mate. I was kidnapped eight years ago, fair enough, but what d'ya think I been doing since then? Sitting chained up in a cellar?" He snorted. "Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me. I really am a pirate now."  
"You don't have to be-"  
"But I am. Don't worry yourself, Cut, this is how I want it."  
Beckett raised an eyebrow. "You're going to be hanged." and Jack grinned and waved one finger in the air. "You're forgetting one thing: I'm Jack Sparrow! Savvy?"  
Beckett's gaze darkened. "You're Jack Teague."  
"No." They looked at each other hard, with equally mixed emotions in their eyes. "No. I might be a pirate, Cutler, but I ain't that."

*

They met many times, each one growing more and more concerned with saving his own skin and less and less concerned with the wellbeing of the other every time, and their relationship proceeding naturally from friendship to distaste to hatred.  
They had each left many marks on the other, but none so silent - nor so significant - as these two first encounters.

And whatever Cutler Beckett says, he was not the one who branded Jack. He was there, but he refused to do it. That, I would to believe, was Sparrow's largest mark on him.


End file.
